Dial 411 for Information
by Reigen Doki
Summary: Or how to kiss without those pesky lips. Jim's sneakiness leaves something to be desired and Spock is a touch telepath, as always. Fortunately, they're both romantics at heart. JimxSpock, Spork, whatever.


**I don't own Star Trek.**

**So if you didn't read to figure out this was Kirk/Spock, I have no sympathy for you. Especially since you probably aren't reading this…Enjoy.**

… … .. . .. … …

_One:_

It hadn't really been intentional. Not that it was unintentional. James T. Kirk was never that clumsy or stupid. He had just seen the opportunity and acted on it. If he'd tried to say what gave him the urge to do so, he would never be able to answer. Jim was never one to question his instincts though and acted as his intuition demanded of him. Later, McCoy swore up and down at him, refusing to believe the action had been completely innocent.

They were on Tralix III. It was a nice planet, barring the fact that the capital was located in the permanently snow covered apex of the north pole. Which meant beaming down in federation issue snow gear and having the meeting in an _ice hall_. Jim's giggling musings about a fortress of solitude were met with disapproving looks by his crew. After the meetings, they were invited to participate in recreational activities.

They had a snow ball fight.

With a bunch of planetary leaders.

Jim was so psyched he couldn't wipe the grin off his face even when a snow ball came out of fucking nowhere and nearly knocked a tooth out. And then the leaders took them ice skating.

McCoy cursed and swore about how unnatural it was as he slowly tottered along, until he started skating backwards to help Uhura and accidentally revealed he had taught his daughter how to skate like that. Spock was gliding easily over the ice, natural grace taking over even with the unfamiliar means of locomotion. Jim weaved and wobbled, sliding into dignitaries and leaders who would giggle and push him along his way. Over all, he hadn't been doing poorly until he slammed into Spock.

They both managed to overbalance and crash to the ice. Jim scrambled to stand, and collapsed back onto his first officer. With a laugh, he placed his hands on either side of Spock's face and propped himself up. That was when it happened. He was staring down at Spock, chuckling uncontrollably, when the other man lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him.

And he leaned down just enough to bring the tips of their noses together and shook his head in what could be mistaken as an amused gesture. It brushed their noses together with a little force as they swept past each other three or four times, and Jim pulled back. Spock looked minutely shocked, but no more so than any other time Jim touched him.

And, well aware of the _look_ Uhura and McCoy were giving him, Jim cackled and skated off. Spock spared a long suffering look as he regained his footing, oblivious as to the alternative meeting to the small, seemingly incongruent gesture.

… .. .

_Two:_

The second one hadn't really been intentional either. It was a matter of convenience. If he really thought about it, he'd realize he got some kind of perverse pleasure out of stealing kissed from his first officer. So he diligently didn't think about it in those terms. Due to the nature of it, only he and Spock knew what he did. And seeing as Spock didn't recognize the gesture, really, Jim was the only one who knew. And when he later did research into Vulcan physiology, he felt just a little more vindicated then before.

They were on Kaligary Meta. It was hot and damp and exotically bright. And the natives were extremely friendly. They also had a mild form of telepathy that allowed them to hypnotize people with their movements.

Now, normally that would bode of trouble, but the natives used it simply for entertainment. Specifically, they artificially heightened the pleasure derived from their native dances. Spock had mentioned off hand when they beamed down that it was not particularly safe for someone who did not posses telepathy to watch. Something about altering the mind structure and inducing a drunken state that was near impossible to snap someone out of.

That hadn't stopped them from being so nice as to present a dancer for Jim and Spock.

Now, Jim had made his worries known, and she promised not to use her hypnosis on him.

That had apparently been unsatisfying to Spock. Notably, because as soon as she dropped her shroud to expose the intricate body paint and more exotic parts of her body, Spock clapped a hand over Jim's eyes.

He almost wanted to laugh and inform Spock that he had seen much worse, in much more interesting situations. It was a cute gesture, but Jim didn't want to offend her, so he tugged at Spock's wrist. Spock didn't budge though, so the next thought that came to Jim, purely on instinct, mind you, was one he acted on immediately.

He rapidly batted his eyes, scraping his perfectly normal length(not long damn it) lashes against Spock's palm. It was a weird sensation, for him, feeling the pull of his lashes dragging against skin. Spock made a soft sound, almost a gasp, and yanked his hand back like Jim had just tried to harm him. If he was honest, it had been a little insulting. Their dancer didn't seem to notice the exchange at all.

Later, Jim figured out how sensitive his hands were, and realized the normally strange sensation had most likely been far more…intensive, then he had predicted. Spock made no comment, however on his behavior beyond citing the numerous reasons why Jim should not have made him remove his hand.

… .. .

_Three:_

The third time was intentional. It was also a moment before Jim had actually realize what he had done. Unlike the others, he only remembered what the gesture meant _after_ he had done it. Spock was, disappointingly, oblivious. Not to the act. He had been hyper aware of that. He just didn't know what it was. Sulu was the only other one who did, and that was because he had dated a Klingon specialist. It had been his hobby of the week.

They were actually onboard. Specifically, in the exercise room. It had started innocently enough, as all things are wont to do. Jim had made an off-hand comment about all the fights they got into planet side. Spock had made a thinly veiled insult about it being 'beneficial' that he was there to assist. Jim preceded to insist he could take Spock.

Mentions of their first time working together were made.

Jim reminded him how much of a beating he had already received.

Naturally, there was only one way to solve this. The reason anything about Klingons became important was Jim's rather ridiculous comments about having to defend his honor or loosing his status as a warrior, among other related taunts.

Sulu was acting arbitrator, having started the whole debate to begin with. He instantly said that the only Klingon rule not being observed was that it was a fight to the death. That had set the tone for the fight. In spite of the serious undercurrent, Jim found himself laughing and thoroughly enjoying himself. And then he pinned Spock.

When he sank his teeth into Spock's cheek, he hadn't thought about the Klingon gesture. The flood of sweet, coppery tang in his mouth brought it back. Sulu had wisely remained silent. Spock had given him a disapproving look, reminding Jim there was no need to use _teeth_. Jim had just grinned sheepishly, before realizing his mouth was green. And that was awkward.

As was the strange little feeling of ownership as they marched to Sickbay to get the freely bleeding bite healed. He supposed that was kind of the point, but that didn't change the fact that he'd actually done it. And McCoy kept flashing him the weirdest looks.

… .. .

_Four:_

If he was going to be honest, which there was no reason not to be when thinking about this in the privacy of his own mind, he really had a problem. Not only had it been completely intentional, it had been meticulously planed. He actually had to set up the scenario, which spoke volumes about how much of a problem he honestly had. He even went so far as to ensure that Spock had no idea what he was doing, which deserved a pat on the back at least for cunning and ingenuity. More over because his actions would seem no less implausible, no less illogical, then all the times before

They were on shore leave. It was a pleasant respite from deadly missions and ridiculous diplomacy meetings. There was a particular lake near the dock that his favorite officers had agreed they simply _had_ to spend the day at. So Jim had managed to convince everyone they needed swim suits. Walking around the shops a short distance from their picnic area in trunks and loose shirts garnered no attention, even with a Vulcan.

And that was what he and Chekov were doing.

Carrying enough ice cream to drown half his staff.

Spock was only carrying his and Jim's cone, at Jim's insistence. He'd have to be if he wanted this to work right. And that thought was absolutely terrifying because he honestly had far too much invested in his little plan.

Jim stopped abruptly, feigning interest in some little shop for a split second. He winced dramatically as he felt his first officer collide with him. He'd been very careful to make sure Spock wouldn't be able to stop in time. Chekov made an amused little sound as Jim spun around apologizing. Spock was giving him a long suffering look, holding Jim's ice cream gingerly. The ice cream Jim had expertly shove back into him.

The little dab of white treat looked obscene on his cheek. Jim grinned sheepishly and darted forward, licking the frozen substance clear. Spock jerked back, eyes momentarily narrowed. Chekov stared bug eyed as Spock proceeded to lecture him on his ability to clean himself and the illogical use of his tongue as a cleaning agent. Jim pointed out it was his ice cream. Somehow that successfully shut him up.

Perhaps in an act of kindness, Chekov said nothing as they made their way back to the group. Jim was mildly surprised when Spock held his ice cream cone over so Jim could eat a bit of it with his hands full. He was minutely suspicious, at first, that Spock knew exactly what he had done, but he seemed only to regard him with general stoicism.

And if Spock eyed him warily for a second when he got more ice cream on his face when they were back with the group, he couldn't exactly blame his natural paranoia. It had been decidedly tempting to lean over and do it again, but that would definitely be pushing it.

… .. .

**One:**

It wasn't a kiss. Which was ironic, because it was the first time he pressed his lips to Spock's. He hadn't even been thinking about kisses at the time. Which, really, spoke volumes about how bad the situation was, because he could think of sex at the worst possible time. Six other crew members had been present, and not a one of them considered for a second that he was sexually harassing his first officer. Even McCoy had gone so far as to encourage his actions.

They were on Phasia XI. Routine mission his ass. The Phasians, the little bastards, claimed they needed help. Much wasn't known about them, but that was why Kirk was supposed to be negotiating with them while his security officers handled the 'wild animal' problem. Bullshit.

There were Klingons.

And that was how the transport shuttle ended up going down in a lake.

Spock, in the process of helping get a young medical ensign, that had cracked her skull, out of the transport, ended up trapped under collapsing parts. McCoy got the girl out successfully.

Jim and the security officers were rushing to free his pinned arm and legs. Spock, dutifully holding his breath, could do very little from the position he was in. Jim found himself growing worried, though. He knew Vulcans could hold their breath for some time, but he'd already returned to the surface three times for air. Remembering some of the survival courses he took, he drew in several fast, large breaths of air and dove back under.

Spock's color looked bad, like he really couldn't hold his breath any longer. So Jim smacked his chest, to make him vacate his lungs. Spock coughed in surprise and Jim's lips were on his before he could suck in water. There was a sharp moment where Spock looked ready to panic, but pushed it down, holding his breath again as Jim hurried back for another breath of air. When McCoy prompted him to explain why he came back up immediately, he told him. He was instructed to keep at it, because the recycled oxygen wouldn't hold as much value.

Diving back under, he caught the momentarily strained look before Spock exhaled with a sigh, possibly of exasperation. That continued for a few more minutes, trading precious oxygen as the security officers worked as quickly as possible. When Spock was finally freed, Jim helped him to the surface, generally disliking the amount of blood that was seeping from cuts on his legs.

Spock stared at him a minute, as he caught his breath and allowed McCoy to examine him. Jim did his best not to glance over ever few seconds as he issued orders and tried repeatedly to get a hold of the Enterprise. Just before they beamed up, Spock approached him, almost timid in his step. He offered a quick thanks and proceeded to lecture Jim about underestimating his ability to hold his breath and communicating his intent very poorly.

… .. .

_One:_

If anyone was to blame for this one, it was Spock himself. The myriad of ways to go about describing the situation usually involved at least one curse word and quite a deal of blushing. And James T. Kirk did not blush. That generally meant he was going to make up for it with an extra deal of cursing. He'd never been more happy or embarrassed in his life. Considering some of the situations he got himself into, that last one came as quite a surprise.

They were on New Vulcan. It was a political fiasco, some celebration or remembrance for the destruction of Vulcan. It wasn't like he didn't approve, but somehow it felt like it was just a tedious task for everyone involved when they'd much rather just move on. So he was planet side for the least party like party since the history of parties.

He had snuck off for a moment of silence.

Spock had only taken ten minutes to join him.

Jim offered him a soft smile as he watched the sun set. It was so perfectly romantic and perfect that he couldn't help the content little sigh that escaped his lips.

Spock was intent on the sky, not watching Jim. It was the perfect moment, and Jim moved with a single purpose. He extended his hand, two fingers offered in a gesture that could not be mistaken. Almost absentmindedly, Spock pressed his own fingers to his, never turning to look. The next second, he watched Spock's eyes widen as he glanced over at their hands, shock clear on his face as what they were doing fully sank in.

Jim grinned and hooked their fingers gently. Spock's look shifted to one of restrained amusement as he mimicked the action. A wolf whistle from the other room caught his attention and Jim whipped around to see the entire procession of his crew and the present Vulcans staring at them.

Rather suddenly, they were being bombarded with well wishes and congratulations. Jim scrambled in alarm, hiding himself behind his First Officer and tentative boyfriend. This was met with a round of laughter. Embarrassed, but far from upset, Jim rested his head between Spock's shoulder blades, and felt the faint tremors of laughter. Briefly, he wondered what had taken him so long.

When they finally found a moment of privacy, Spock let him in on a little secret. He may not have recognized the kisses for what they were, but he was a touch telepath, and some intents were blatant in most every culture.

… … .. . .. … …

**No Jim, you aren't that clever. Just a weird little thing. Hope you enjoyed.**


End file.
